The Hard-to-Kill Club
by Shadowsammy
Summary: /Three-Shot/ Dean, Sam, and Harry debate which of them is the hardest to kill - - - "'I wish to pass on my crown,'" Harry stubbornly reiterated through clenched teeth and twitching green eyes, "which makes you…" Dean and Sam drunkenly blinked at him, waiting for him to finish his declaration. "…Queen!" CH 3 of 3 Finished. YAY! /Three-Shot/
1. CH 1: In Which Harry Wins

~The Hard-to-Kill Club~

In Which Harry Wins

_I Feel The Blisters  
Below The Words;  
A Universe Waiting To Explode.  
And I Felt The Words Crawl Out Of My Skull,_

_Don't Bother Pretending I Seem Fine;  
I Like That I'm A Mess._

~_So-So Suicide, _by Finger Eleven

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Location:** A Bar; Somewhere Near New York

**Time:** 1:15 AM EST

* * *

"Rough day, Harry?"

Glancing upwards, Harry smiled faintly at the Winchester boys and shrugged his thin shoulders to signify that it had its ups and downs. He sipped at his glass of alcohol, which was of the Wizarding variety, and sighed, "I've had much worse, so no complaints, I guess. You?"

"Same ol', same ol'," Dean drawled while pulling the nearest chair around and sitting in it backwards, his chest braced against the wooden back of the seat. He waved for the waitress to bring him his drinks – a shot of vodka and two glasses of whiskey.

Smiling at the Wizard, Sam plopped down into another chair and stretched his long legs out, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. "So much better than being stuck in the Impala!"

Affronted, Dean shot him a glare and pointed at him with his shot glass. "Watch it! Don't hate on my sweet baby!"

"Your sweet baby," Sam deadpanned with his patented Bitch Face, "is a _car_, and being stuck in your car – any car, really – for eight hours is too much!"

Seeing his infamous expression, Dean smirked playfully at his little brother, white teeth showing, and simply said, "Whatever, Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam returned the insult without animosity; in fact, his smile brightened with the familiar exchange.

"Prats," Harry chirped, happy to contribute to the conversation – if it could be called that, anyway – and smiled, too.

"Midget," The Winchesters, both of whom were much taller than Harry, returned with ease.

"Barking mad, the both of you," Harry finished and promptly dropped his mouth to the lip of his bottle of Firewhiskey. Savoring the taste of fire burning down his throat, Harry closed his green eyes. A sigh escaped his lips.

A comfortable lull in the conversation presented itself, but Dean, being Dean, could not handle it and promptly began to chatter about their last months. "A ghostly son-of-a-bitch tried to fry me, and I nearly _died _because of it," Dean boasted with his usual smirk and glow of confidence.

"He _did _die, though the Reaper –" Sam tried to correct him.

"Demon!" Dean interjected here with his own correction, and without pulling his lips from his drink.

"The _DEMON _brought him back," Sam clarified with annoyance, and sensing that this conversation had the topic of their eight-hour-drive, Harry hurriedly ordered their second round of drinks. Sam suddenly brightened and smirked at them, puffing his chest out. "_I _died in a competition between psychics."

"Fucker stabbed him in the back, and I had to go and make a deal with this Crossroads Demon – and kiss her, too, though that part wasn't too bad – to brink his gigantor ass up and back to life," Dean snorted into his gin, and Sam deflated, chest dropping, shoulders hunching, and lips pushing out. He pouted at his big brother. Dean blinked. "...What?"

After finishing his third Firewhiskey, Harry resurfaced from the bottle and put it down in front of him with a soft clink. He would regret this tomorrow, but – "Well, I lived with abusive relatives who beat me, almost to death, until I was eleven. I left for school, but I still had to stay there for the Holidays." The Wizard shrugged off their surprise.

Clearing his throat to hide his sudden discomfort, Dean swayed in his chair and then turned it into a competition. "So? We're Hunters, and have been since – well, almost forever. Lil' Sammy and I are always gettin' beat to Hell and back. Literally," He slurred.

"Dean!" Sam glared at his older brother for being rude, but then slowly nodded in reluctant agreement. He turned back around to face Harry and gently teased, "We _are _pretty hard to kill – too stubborn to stay dead, I guess. We also have more experience with being killed and brought back to life than you."

Harry deadpanned, "Dean, Sam, I found the Philosopher's Stone at eleven because a crazed Dark Wizard wanted it to resurrect his dead Master, the Dark Lord Voldemort. At twelve, I killed the ancient basilisk sealed in the Chamber of Secrets inside the school. My friends and I saved the life of a wrongly convicted "mass murderer" before I turned thirteen, and before turning fourteen, I competed in (and, yeah, also won) a deadly tournament that I had been forced to participate in."

Sucking in another breath, Harry plunged forward and said, "At fifteen, I joined in with a group of rebels to fight against the recently resurrected Dark Lord Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War, learned how to kill said immortal bastard at sixteen, and then left school at seventeen to kill him for good."

Realizing how farfetched the last bit might sound, Harry amended, "It took a year to find all the hidden bits of his nasty soul, but Ron, 'Mione, and I shattered all of them with the Sword of Gryffindor and the fangs of the basilisk I killed at twelve. We helped in the war, and I battled against Voldemort. Then, I died."

Harry blinked, quickly retracting his steps, and smiled in satisfaction. He spread his arms wide, swayed somewhat in his chair, and drunkenly cheered, "The End~!"

"…You died?" Dean dumbly repeated, finding it hard to process so much information without bias (and with all of the alcohol in his system). So Sam finished his train of thought and tentatively pointed out, "You're here right now."

"Yeah," Harry blandly said, pushing his hand through his unruly black hair and then shrugging his thin shoulders, "but I died first. Turns out, I had collected something – three of these little things called Deathly Hallows – that belonged to Death. So I'm his Master now!"

"Like, Master-Slave?" Dean amusedly asked the little Wizard and, without waiting for an answer, slowly said, "Kinky…" While Sam flushed, glanced to their younger companion (who appeared confused), and hissed, "Dean!" To which Dean hurriedly (and poorly) defended himself with – "What? It is!"

"So…" Ignoring their little brotherly spat, Harry innocently questioned, "…Who's the hardest to kill again, Sam?"

The Winchesters glanced at each other, sighed in defeat, and then tipped their glasses to him.

"You win," Dean and Sam chorused reluctantly.

Harry chirped, "Thank you!"

* * *

**New Status:**

_Harry James Potter_ \- Wizard, Lord Potter-Black, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Boy-Who-Conquered, and The President of the Hard-to-Kill-Club

* * *

**Notes:**

_Supernatural_ Seasons One, Two, and Part of Three

_Harry Potter _Books One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven

* * *

***Author's Note***

Hello~! I am pretty sickly, and I have been in bed for days, alternating between rereading (for the umpteenth time) _Harry Potter_ and rewatching _Supernatural_ from the beginning (gotta love _Netflix_). Thus, _The Hard-to-Kill Club_ is born!Hope you all enjoy the lighthearted silliness for three of the best protagonists ever. :)

**Up Next: **Guess I'm turning this into a 'three-shot!' Who will win the next round? Sam? Dean?

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

_Update = 5 Reviews_


	2. CH 2: In Which Sam Wins

~The Hard-to-Kill Club~

In Which Sam Wins

_Can You Tell  
That I Picked My Poison Well,  
That I Have No More To Sell To You?  
I Search For The One Who Bleeds  
Like Me._

_My Addictions Have No Boundaries;  
Now, I'm Crying Out For More._

~_Bleed Like Me, _by Trapt

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Location:** Another Bar; Deep in Louisiana

**Time:** 3:42 AM CST

* * *

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

"Ugh, Dean, I cannot _believe_ you!"

Shrugging, Dean stuck his lips against the rim of his beer and sucked down another mouthful. "What? You want a sorry? Demon had it coming to her!" Dean said in his defense.

"Meg," Sam quietly corrected his older brother, downcast, and stared forlornly into his own cup, a small frown claiming his mouth. Lips parted to forlornly sigh. "Her name was actually _Meg_."

"Uh…" Dean suddenly looked quite uncomfortable, made obvious by his continued fidgeting and the drumming of his fingers against his left thigh. Suddenly, however, Dean brightened and loudly exclaimed, "Hey! Look who finally decided to show their girly mug!"

"Dean, Sam," A Wizard, the only the Winchesters really hung out with, let alone tolerated, chirped and made his way over at that moment. Dean smiled, but Sam continued to sulk. Green eyes were wide and dark eyebrows lifted in bemusement. "…Okay. What's the matter now?"

"Sammy here _still_ feels bad about that demon bitch I made him exorcise," Dean finally explained since his brother did not feel inclined to be the Know-It-All for once, "because the fucker served Yellow Eyes."

_Blink, blink. _

_Stare._

"Didn't that happen, er –" Here, Harry paused to recount that part of their long journey from city to city, state to state, and promptly confused himself. He finally smiled sheepishly at the youngest Winchester, "– a really long time ago?"

"_Yeah,_ but Dean keeps killing off all the good monsters!" Sam grumbled his complaint, curling his hands around his pint and staring down into the amber liquid with big brown eyes. Harry blinked at him, and then the drink, in speculation. …Was that Butterbeer?

"Good monsters?" Dean scoffed, whereas Harry opened his mouth, paused to think before speaking like Hermione had taught him to do, and then conceded the point: Remus was not the monster everybody thought him to be.

"_Good monsters,_" Sam stubbornly confirmed, sounding like the enthusiastic little boy that used to gush about the newest episode of Pokémon. _Pikachu this, and Charmander that!_ Yikes, Sam had been _nuts_ for those freaky little critters! Dean preferred Playboy…

Biting his lip, Dean had to fight the brotherly desire to mention that old, and embarrassing, obsession to embarrass Sam. The Winchester cleared his throat instead, and then gruffly admitted, "I liked her better than Lilith…"

Groaning, Harry removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He could feel the headache brewing, but Harry was a glutton for punishment – Gryffindor, point in case – and warily inquired, "…Lilith?"

"Yeah, Lilith! You know! That Crossroads Demon I sucked face with!" Dean proudly said, practically gushing about it. Sam resolved to make fun of him for it later, when Dean was sober enough to be embarrassed about it. Smirk.

Although wearing his glasses again, Harry squinted at the oldest of the Winchester Hunters; Dean had always been pretty, uh, _free_ with his love, but really? "Why do you sound happy about it…?"

"She _was_ pretty damn hot," Dean deadpanned. He shrugged, lifting another beer to his lips – Sam scowled at the sudden loss of his drink – because his was now empty.

The Wizard ignored the pun. "She was a demon, Dean," He blandly pointed out, lifting his pointer finger from his drink, but only long enough to stick it in his face – eye, really, since Harry could not quite judge the distance between them while sloshed.

"She also tricked him into Hell," Sam happily added, his sudden good cheer brought about by his own state of intoxication. Froth clung to his lips, red to his cheeks, and mirth to his eyes. "I had to save –" _Hiccup. _ "– him!"

Eyes watering, Dean glared at them. "H-Hey! Look who's talking! Who thought Ruby was good again?" Dean retorted, perhaps the most sober of the three which, considering the state of the other two, was nothing to be proud of; Harry could barely stay seated, and Sam could only smile stupidly at him.

The Winchester blushed. "Well, Dean and I both managed to get tricked by Ruby –" Sam amended, still perking up, and started their usual retelling of past events. Several things had happened since the Winchester Hunters last met up with the Wizard.

And Dean, being Dean, loudly interrupted, "DEMON!"

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

"…Merlin," Harry muttered in prayer.

As if nothing had happened, however, Sam downed his second beer, licked his lips at the familiar taste, and continued, "She was working for Lilith. We also got away again, but only after…" He suddenly deflated, staring at them with watery puppy eyes.

Jumping into their story, Dean bluntly finished, "We killed her. But Sammy keeps forgetting to mention drinking her nasty blood to jumpstart his abilities." He huffed. "Damn kid always studied before, but hey! Ruby knows the shortcut, so why not take it?"

"Only did it because you were in Hell, Dean!" Sam grumbled, dark hair falling into his equally dark eyes, and his usual smile – be it sweet, confused, amused, whatever – dropped into a grimace. "You think I woulda done it otherwise? I'm not a vampire!"

"'Course not," Dean _kindly _agreed with his little brother, lashes fluttering, smile wide and fake. Dropped the act not ten seconds later and sniped, "You're much worse! Goddamn vessel for Lucifer, aren't you?"

Lifting his hands in the air, Sam exhaled in exasperation and dropped the bomb that Harry had been waiting for; Dean and Sam always managed to find trouble, just like him. "Dean. Dude. _You're_ the vessel for Michael," The Hunter pointed out, attempting to stand his ground.

"Is this the part where I interrupt and add that I carried around part of Voldemort's soul in me?" Harry dryly asked, not bothering to play their little game or take part in their competition. The Wizard had been winning constantly for nearly three years. It seemed about time to let somebody else win.

"Ew, Harry," Sam wrinkled his nose as a way of expressing his disgust with the thought and the action, but Dean snorted, finding it hypocritical, and muttered, "What's the big deal, Sam? You want to have **Lucifer's** soul in you."

"I do not!" Sam protested – and like two children, Dean and Sam commenced their bickering.

"Do too!" Dean returned.

"Not!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"SHUT IT!" Harry finally lost his temper, just like his mother, Lily, sometimes did with his father, James, and his friends, Sirius, Remus, and…_Peter._ The Winchesters gaped at him in disbelief because Harry rarely lost his temper in front of them.

"Look," Harry stated, sounding much calmer and fairly sober now, "Yeah, Dean made his deal with that demon, Lilith –"

"– and kissed her," The Hunter interrupted with all the manly pride in his body; it practically oozed it out of his pores.

Snort. "– and kissed her," Harry laughingly amended, "and went to Hell, but the fact of the matter is that being the vessel of the Michael is nothing compared to being the vessel of _Lucifer!_" The Wizard dryly called their attention to another fact. "Sam nearly started the Apocalypse." Pause. "Twice…"

"Yeah, but…" Sam blushed modestly at the mention of his mistakes, which could have ended the world and everybody in it. It could have happened to anybody, really! "…It wasn't intentional."

"Nevertheless," Harry interrupted Dean, who had his mouth open and ready to insult his little brother yet again, and Sam, who glared mulishly at his big brother. "As President, I admit to being beaten and wish to pass on my crown!"

"…Uh, Harry? Presidents don't wear crowns," Sam amusedly said, leaning forward to brace his weight against the tabletop with his elbows. He placed his chin in his hand and stared blearily down at his brother and their friend. Everything seemed to be spinning…

"'I wish to pass on my crown,'" Harry stubbornly reiterated through clenched teeth and twitching green eyes, "which makes you…" Dean and Sam drunkenly blinked at him, waiting for him to finish his declaration. "…Queen!"

Harry smiled, Sam paled, and Dean struggled to breathe. The Winchester huffed, and puffed, and hoarsely wheezed, "Oh, God…!"

"Or Satan," Harry thoughtfully corrected him while smiling innocently at the two Hunters – Sam, happy to have finally won, was now smiling drunkenly at them and puffing his chest out, whereas Dean had stopped laughing and started sputtering incoherently, instead.

"But, but…" Dean protested, stuck there like those old records his mother used to play all the time, and tried grasping at straws. He was not exactly Team Angel, but – "Good always wins!"

"Hush, Dean…" Harry chided, sounding much older, though the Wizard happened to be only a year or so younger. Sam was the youngest of the three, and speaking of which, Harry laughingly said, "Let Sam bask in his temporary winning streak."

Ears perked, Dean observed him through narrowing green eyes as another round of drinks appeared in front of them, courtesy of the victor, Sam. The Hunter ignored his drink for the moment and questioned, "'…Temporary?'"

"Of course," Harry said carelessly and shrugged his slender shoulders in amusement. "You're far more reckless than Sam, Dean. You'll beat him eventually."

"Huh…" Dean eloquently responded, blinking in consideration. The Wizard might have something there…

"Same time next week, then?"

"You're on!"

* * *

**New Status:**

_Sam Winchester – _Hunter, Psychic, The Boy King, The Vessel of Lucifer, and The New President of the Hard-to-Kill-Club, Also Fondly Known As Queen Sam and Satan

* * *

**Notes:**

Supernatural Seasons Three, Four, and Part of Five

_Harry Potter _Books Three, Six, and Seven

* * *

***Author's Note***

Hi~! Okay, Readers wanted Sam to win, and Dean to win, _and_ Sam and Dean to win. So I turned this into a story with three chapters, in which Harry, then Sam, and finally Dean win. I tried to line that bit of planning up with the flow of the episodes for _Supernatural. _What do you think? :)

**Up Next: **Dean takes the cake - er, pie! ;)

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

_Update = 10 Reviews_


	3. CH 3: In Which Dean Wins

~The Hard-to-Kill Club~

In Which Dean Wins

_So Raise Your Glass, If You Are Wrong,  
In All The Right Ways,  
All My Underdogs._

_So If You're Too School For Cool,  
And You're Treated Like A Fool,  
You Can Choose To Let It Go._

_We Will Never Be Anything But Loud,  
And Nitty Gritty, Dirty Little Freaks._

_We Can Always Party On Our Own._

~_Raise Your Glass, _by Pink

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Location:** A Bar; Some Desert in Nevada

**Time:** 12:07 AM PST

* * *

"Hey, Harry!"

"Hello, Sam," Harry smiled brightly at him, feeling cheerful with his lot for the first time in years. "It's been quite awhile! How are you?"

"Another year," The Hunter admitted, stepping into the dimly lit corner and taking his seat to the left of the Wizard, "Pretty good, though – little beat up and all, but the usual for us. What about you?"

"Good! Tough being Lord Potter, but I set time aside and finally started training with Death to become the Master of the Hallows," Harry informed him, knowing that Sam liked to learn about the Wizarding Community. He turned to the other Winchester, who hissed at – wait, _hissed?_ "Uh, Dean, how are you?"

"DEATH…!" Dean exclaimed with fury, hands lifted in the air, before plopping down into the only empty seat left at the table, to the right of Harry. Thin lips pulled into an icy cold scowl, and Dean growled, "I hate Death. Stupid Horseman and his _stupid _bling…"

Okay, Harry could admit to being _terribly _confused right about now. Dean usually said – and yeah, did – strange things, but to hiss and growl at him? Could Hunters suffer from PMS? _Sam _certainly seemed to have it now and then! Harry pondered while nibbling at his fish and chips and sipping at his Butterbeer. Hmmm…

Whatever! The Wizard lifted both of his eyebrows, not that anybody could really tell since his shaggy hair swallowed them up, and blinked at Sam. He thought back to their conversation and parroted, "…Bling?"

"A Muggle term meaning nice jewelry," Sam helpfully explained, always soaking information in and then releasing it like a sponge. "We needed to get four rings from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; Death had the fourth one."

Hesitantly, Harry tried to ignore the sinking in his stomach and warily asked, "It wouldn't happen to have been gold, would it? It would have a center of black diamonds, with this strange triangle picture in its middle…"

_Please, please, __**please**__ say no…! _

"No…?" Sam slowly replied, confused with the question, and stared blankly down at the shorter man, a question in his voice. When Harry did not respond, Sam added, "It was actually silver, with little swirls along the side, and the center was a square."

Slumping in relief, Harry let his forehead hit the table with a small _thump_ and mumbled, "Thank Merlin! Death keeps hiding the Hallows. He thinks it great fun, and has made it part of the training I get from him. I thought I might have to find the damn thing _again._"

"Again?" Sam asked, with curiosity, and started to munch at his veggie wrap. When the Wizard had heard that Sam and Dean had stopped by, Harry had invited them out to a nice little pub. It served healthier foods, which made Sam happy, and beer, which satisfied Dean.

"Again," Harry confirmed while grumbling about the past year – "Last time Death hid the Resurrection Stone, I had to visit this place called Mordor in Middle Earth, where I had to take it from this deformed House Elf to keep their Dark Lord from getting hands – er, _eye_ – on our ring."

Blinking rapidly, Sam patted his head and kindly said, "I'm sorry…"

"Me, too," Harry mumbled into his drink.

Silence, and then –

"You know what," Dean started while staring off into space as a waitress brought them another round of drinks, winking at them and turning her hair pink; Sam stared at her with his mouth hanging open. "Yesterday, I happened to think…"

"Oh, God," Sam muttered, forgetting the anomaly of pink hair and fearing the worst. It never ended well for them when Dean had – _shudder_ – thoughts. Remember the Prank War? Because _Sam _remembered the Prank War!

_Stupid itching powder…_

Scowl.

"No, God has _nothing_ to do with it," Dean protested with a wave, and then sourly muttered, "He never does…"

"He sort of did," Sam interrupted while pretending to be the voice of reason – _or rather,_ Harry thought with amusement, _The Devil's Advocate._ Aptly named, right? "Remember: We were out searching for Alphas and Crowley, and it turned out that Castiel had been working with Crowley, and God emerged from Purgatory."

"Castiel," Dean corrected him punctuating each of his sentences with kicks to the legs of the table. "Not God; Castiel! Stupid Angel usurped the throne and decided to suck up all the souls from Purgatory, like a vacuum!"

Calmly, Sam smiled at Dean, still trying to remain positive and refrain from offending his brother, who had become good friends with Castiel. Sam finished the last bite of his veggie wrap, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and pointed out, "He called himself God."

"If I call myself Tom Cruise," Dean sarcastically started while viciously biting into his pie and wiping the crumbs from his mouth – here, Sam sighed – with the sleeve of his dark leather jacket, "then does that make me rich, Sammy?"

"No…" Sam hesitantly said, knowing that his older brother had become (more) _short tempered_ since his return from Purgatory, and especially since being resurrected with the help of the Mark of Cain. _Testy,_ Sam had claimed, to which Dean mocked, "Testes? I have 'em. Do you?"

"NO!" Dean roared in return, banging his fists against the table and drawing the attention of the strange waitress, who turned her hair black, hooked her nose, and crossed her eyes. Harry bit back laughter at her (bad) impersonation of Severus Snape.

The Winchesters, ignorant to this admittedly _strange _exchange, glared at each other. It wasn't the nicest glare – not that glares _should_ be nice, but still! It screamed: DIE, FUCKER!

"I'm rich!" Harry helpfully piped to distract Thing One from Thing Two.

(…What? Harry LIKED reading books by Dr. Seuss!)

"Shut up!" They growled together.

Harry only smiled.

"Speaking of suckers, let's not forget Benny!" Dean exclaimed, while ordering yet another drink – his _fifteenth,_ if Harry had counted correctly – and downing it in one go. He ordered another but busied himself with consuming his (…bloody) steak, instead. Harry stared. What the (…bloody) Hell?

Apparently finding nothing weird about the amount of liquor and the state of the meat (in other words, raw and still mooing) consumed by Dean, Sam returned his attention to his drink and snorted. "Who could forget about _him?_"

"Me!" Harry brightly exclaimed, lifting his left hand and frantically waving it around in the air like Hermione used to do in classes at Hogwarts, "since I did not know him."

"Be thankful," Sam muttered in his usual kind fashion, but Dean, being Dean, glowered at both of them and grumbled, "…Bloodsucker was weird." And Sam, being Sam, attempted to soothe his ruffled feathers and understandingly added, "Most of them are."

Nostalgically, Harry thought back to his experiences in the Second Wizard War, which included contact with all _kinds_ of creatures – well, with the exception of Vampires. He pouted, "Well, I'll have to take your word for it since I only know werewolves. Remus is nice. Greyback, though – not so much…"

Thankfully, Dean and Sam were much too busy bickering to hear this admission.

"_You're _weird!" Sam retorted, lifting his glass and pointing the rim of the bottle at his big brother, who had been making faces at him ("Your face is going to get stuck like that for good, Dean!") for the length of the monologue from their favorite Wizard.

"_I_ wasn't the one with hallucinations," Dean pointed out while batting the bottle to the side, fearing that his little brother might have his superglue with him again. "Oh, look! Lucifer! He's in the kitchen, in the hallway, in that mirror! GASP!"

A blush stained his pale cheeks, and Sam ducked his head to hide behind his long brown hair. He pouted at the brotherly (and somewhat insulting) teasing and whined, "Hey! Cut it out, Dean! I wasn't _that _bad!"

"'I always feel like, somebody's watching me!'" Dean sang some of the lyrics from _Somebody's Watching Me. _It caught the attention of several other patrons, making Sam flush in embarrassment and Harry laugh hysterically. "'And I have no privacy.'"

"Dammit, Dean! I don't have privacy because _my older brother_ is always hanging around like a creeper!" Sam complained, before sinking into his seat, crossing his arms, and sulking. Cue **Bitch Face.**

Preening, Dean puffed out his chest and bowed to the round of applause ringing through the pub. All of the patrons seemed to like his sudden rendition of _Somebody's Watching Me, _which meant one of three things – 1.) Everyone here was pretty tone deaf, 2.) Everyone here was plastered, **OR** 3.) Everyone here was pretty tone deaf AND plastered. Harry found himself leaning toward the third option – and just leaning in general. Maybe_ Harry_ was plastered? Did Dean even sing?

Squinting in confusion, Harry considered it, and eventually decided that Dean must done _something _to piss off Sam, which meant that Sam had finally lost his crown – uh, Presidency! "Well, I think Dean should win this round," The Wizard offered.

As expected, Sam looked affronted and started spitting off questions like the rapid fire of his favorite gun – "What? How? Why…?"

The Wizard lost track of the questions, and thus their answers, and simply claimed, "Because Dean's beast!"

The Winchesters gaped at him like – "What? How? Why…?"

"What?" Harry asked, ducking his head in embarrassment. "Did I not say it right? I heard these Muggle teenagers use it the other day, and I thought, since I'm stuck looking eighteen forever, that I should try to learn the current lingo here!"

"'I'm not actually beast," Dean responded before Sam could get his thoughts together and interrupt his good fun. The Winchester grinned predatorily and stared at him with suspiciously black eyes. "But I am a –"

"– You know what? I agree," Sam interrupted, glaring at his brother in warning and downing his drink, wishing it had been something stronger – like Harry's Firewhiskey. Harry did _not _need to know about Dean the Demon. "Dean wins."

Dean leaned back, thumped his boots down atop the table, and smirked. "Awesome."

"Hey!" Harry squinted at him through his glasses. "…Are those fangs?"

Hesitantly, Dean muttered, "Uh, I can explain…?"

"This ought to be good," Sam snorted.

"It all started last year…"

* * *

**New Status:**

_Dean Winchester – _Hunter, The Vessel of Michael, and The New President of the Hard-to-Kill-Club, Also Fondly Known As Dean the Demon

ULTIMATE WINNER!

:)

* * *

**Notes:**

Supernatural Seasons Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Part of Ten (Partially AU)

_Harry Potter _Book Seven &amp; Beyond (AU)

* * *

***Author's Note***

**YAY!** A Special Guest Appearance from Tonks and _*Lifts His Arm In The Air*_ Dean wins! He is, like readers said, the most badass and the hardest to kill of these three lovely protagonists. So why _shouldn't_ Dean be the President of the Hard-to-Kill-Club? Yes, I also gifted him with fangs! Dean with fangs sounds fun! ;)

Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope everybody liked it! I will respond to reviews tomorrow. Bye~! :)

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

_15 Reviews?_

Please?

:D


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